


forget the rest (always been the end of the world)

by mimosaeyes



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Episode Tag, Fluff and Angst, M/M, post-199
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 07:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30135999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimosaeyes/pseuds/mimosaeyes
Summary: If things don’t work out and he loses Jon tomorrow, Martin wants to remember him happy.Post-199. Jon and Martin reflect on what has and could have been.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, background daisira but only because of parallels
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	forget the rest (always been the end of the world)

**Author's Note:**

> I keep starting fics and then not finishing them lately. Have this.
> 
> Thanks for the beta, [animaginaryquill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/animaginaryquill) and [magpie_eater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpie_eater)!
> 
> Title from a song by Patrick Droney that could not be more appropriately titled: Always Been the End of the World.

As they emerge into the hallway, Georgie pokes her head out of what must be her and Melanie’s bedroom. “Blankets and such are down that way,” she says, pointing. “Help yourself, yeah?”

If Martin weren’t observing Jon so closely, he might have missed the way he jumps at the words. Jon recovers swiftly, though. “Right. Thanks, Georgie.”

Martin hasn’t yet closed the door behind them. He leans back into the room to relay the information to Basira, only to find her already nodding and waving him off without looking up. “I heard her.”

She’s leaning against the table they’d all stood around while arguing about the plan. In her hands are two flat metal discs on a chain. It takes Martin a moment to place where he’d last seen them: hanging around Daisy’s neck.

He was slipping too far into the Lonely at the time to really pay attention, but Martin did notice that the dog tags disappeared after Daisy swore to resist the Hunt. He’s always assumed she got rid of them, destroyed them in a bid to purge the memory of her work for Section 31 — and the less than legal things she did besides. 

“Found them while tracking her,” Basira explains, clearly guessing his train of thought. “She stopped wearing them, but she still carried them around. As a reminder, you know? Until…”

Until she gave in to the Entity calling her name. Until she left her humanity behind to protect her friends.

Martin swallows past a sudden lump in his throat. “If you need to talk, Basira—”

“I’m good,” she cuts him off. “I’m managing.”

He knows it’s the truth; they’d had plenty of time to catch up at the base of the cliff while Jon was recording. So he nods and leaves it at that, saying only, “Come find us anyway, if you change your mind.”

Her expression softens even as her voice takes on a wry edge. “Go on,” she chivvies, “go be soppy with your boyfriend somewhere else.”

“Somewhere far away from you, you mean?”

Basira snaps her fingers. “Got it in one. Always knew you were the smart one.”

The bedding Georgie mentioned turns out to be a huge pile of unrolled sleeping bags and unfolded blankets. The sight is amusingly incongruous for the three seconds it takes Martin to realise that these used to belong to the cult members, who have since been dragged back to their domains.

Gingerly, he steps forward to take what they need. Jon helps, his face stony.

They duck into the first empty room they come across and lay down enough padding to save their backs from the hard floor. Martin fusses with the makeshift bed while Jon stands and starts pacing.

Everything in Martin is saying to go to him and wrap him up in another hug, make up for the one Jon had pulled out of while his hands were still shaking and his cheeks still wet with tears. But he watches the tense lines of his body and thinks that Jon would only flinch away from comfort if he offered it again. So he sits down, leaving some space for Jon to join him when he’s ready, and waits.

It takes several minutes for Jon to look up at him. When he does, he bites his lip and says, “I’m sorry. It’s already been decided, I know, and I’m sick of rehashing the same old arguments with you.”

Martin lets out a short exhale. “I know. If the plan doesn’t work — I don’t want to spend our last hours together fighting.”

Jon blanches a little. “Hours,” he repeats softly, starting to shake his head. “I wish we had more time.”

“You don’t mean, uh… put it off, do you?” Martin doesn’t think he does, but it’s worth clarifying.

“What? Oh, no. Of course not.”

The huff of laughter that accompanies Jon’s words is gratifying. Martin decides to lean into it. “Because that would be a truly record-breaking act of procrastination,” he points out.

Jon smiles lopsidedly. “Speak for yourself. You haven’t seen me try to start writing an essay in university.”

“Fair enough,” Martin concedes, smiling back at him.

After a moment, Jon sobers again. “I mean, maybe we wouldn’t have been together, if not for all this, but — if I had to do it all over again, I think I’d waste less time. I’d… I don’t know, I’d tell you I’d missed you while I was abroad. Maybe admit that there were a couple of times when I didn’t really need your help looking something up, but called you anyway, so I could hear your voice.”

Martin blinks, momentarily surprised. Then he crows, “I knew it! I _knew_ there wasn’t really a place called Desert Bluffs. I looked for mentions of it in statements for days, and the whole time you were — ha, you were _bluff_ ing.”

Good-naturedly, Jon rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m terrible at coming up with fake names on the spot.”

“But that would mean…” Martin furrows his brow at Jon. “That was when you were in America. And you already…”

Jon has been gradually closing the distance between them as they’ve talked. Now he eases himself down next to Martin, as always favouring the leg Sasha had once dug a worm out of with a corkscrew, and says simply, “Yes. I already knew I loved you. Maybe I wasn’t _in_ love with you, not yet, but… yes.”

Martin will never get used to hearing Jon say he loves him. He knows he does, and it still takes his breath away every time. But right now, with a handful of hours until the morning, it makes him feel like the air has been punched out of his chest.

“You’re right,” he says quietly. “I wish we’d gotten our act together sooner.”

Beside him, Jon pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping one arm around his legs and extending his other hand in Martin’s direction. Martin holds onto his hand, and they stay like that for a spell.

They’ve made an unspoken compact to not only avoid fighting on this last night, but also to keep things light. They’ve had so few wholly good days together, Martin reflects. If things don’t work out and he loses Jon tomorrow, he wants to remember him happy. He wants to make the time they have count.

He nudges Jon, letting his voice grow teasing again. “Hey. If I got to do it all over again, I’d ask you out on a kayaking date.”

“That’s... pretty specific,” Jon remarks.

“Tim gave me the idea. Early, early on, when he would make fun of me for having a crush on the boss. I’d bring you some tea and come back to my desk to find he’d texted me a link to a nearby kayak rental service. It was a different one each time, too.”

“You have to admire the commitment.” Jon pauses. “Can two people even fit in the same kayak?”

“I thought of that. There are tandem kayaks. I was going to win you over with my superior rowing skills.”

Jon laughs. “I think it would’ve worked.”

From just outside the door comes a rustling noise. Basira, probably, holding an armful of sleeping bag and looking for a place to bed down for the night.

After she goes past, Jon says ruefully, “We should probably get some rest.”

He looks about as tired as Martin feels. But everything now seems tinged with an air of finality. If they go to sleep, it might be the last time they curl up together. And it’ll make the morning come sooner.

It’s irrational, but he blurts out, “Not yet. I… I’m not ready.” 

To say goodnight. To say goodbye.

Jon cants his head at him, and Martin wonders how transparent his thoughts are, playing across his features.

“Me neither,” Jon murmurs. He leans in closer and presses a kiss to Martin’s forehead. “Me neither.”

They stay up and talk, facing each other in bed. Neither of them has ever had a sleepover at a friend’s place, they discover, and yet this feels like that. Jon tells him about the lake he and Basira traversed, making it sound absolutely dreadful without Martin there to help with rowing. Martin starts describing _Life of Pi_ and other movies Jon may never get to watch. Several times, he asks if Jon is sleeping with his eyes open, then laughs as he denies it.

In the end, Martin doesn’t even remember falling asleep — only that Jon is there with him, and that’s almost enough.


End file.
